Connections
by CavalierQueen
Summary: Jules is the heart of the team. What might have happened during the debrief of the Godwin Colliseum and afterwards between her and Sam.
1. Chapter 1

**Connections**

Author's Note: Two chapters. Chapter 1 has minor spoilers as 'Behind the Blue Line' has been 're-imagined' in my mind. Chapter 2 is all JAM all the time. Jules is the heart of the team, and my characterization of her here defines that. Unapologetically JAM.

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><p><em>In war, there are no unwounded soldiers. ~José Narosky<em>

Men's voices filled the corridor, bellowing at each other. The group was tense and angry. The shoot had not gone as they had planned, as they'd hoped. Sam was upset and angry. The team blamed each other. Jules had been in the truck talking to the father and the coach, feeding the team information, listening as the tragedy progressed. She only caught snippets of the shouts. She didn't want to hear any of it.

"How could you have let him get the drop on you?" Wordy yelled at Spike.

"Don't talk to the involved officer! You know the rules," the voice of the lawyer rose over the din, referring to Ed Lane, the sniper who had killed the subject ending the incident.

Jules could hear Sarge yelling at Winnie, wondering where she was when she wasn't at her desk, roaring like a lion at her to clear the debriefing room, unwilling to hear that it was already occupied. Winnie was flustered and confused. The boss never treated Winnie, or anyone for that matter, that way, ever. Jules had never heard the boss so angry before.

Sam tried to walk away and Sarge got right in his face. "Where do you think you're going?"

Sam held up his bloody arms and hands, his expression hard, daring anyone to challenge him. "I'm going to shower, wash his blood off, and then home."

"No. You are getting in the debriefing room. Go!" Sam had inches on the Boss, but Parker was herding him into the room anyway.

Greg Parker looked around briefly, counting off four, plus him and punched the button that lowered the door and locked them in. Ed was still in incident review. They would start the debrief without him.

Once the door closed, the noise even got louder. Greg called the team to order, his voice cutting across all the raised discord vibrating off the walls. The room grew silent but the tension was high…Jules thought she might scream it was so awful.

Sam stood facing away from the group, looking out the windows, staring at nothing but the inky night sky lit only by the colored night lights of downtown. She thought he seemed empty, a shell of the happy man he had been this morning.

The group sat looking at Sarge, looking at each other, faces angry and edgy, ready to blow any second, Sam probably the closest of all. Jules felt her own heart beating too fast, tried to slow time down taking first one deep breath and then another.

More than anything she wanted to provide a distraction, break the tension just a bit, get Sam to turn around, reengage with the group. Words wouldn't work, she knew. So, just like Sarge had taught her in hostage negotiations… this wasn't a real hostage situation, but it sure felt like one… slow it down, fight against the adrenaline, make the connection.

Jules deliberately stood and walked to the back wall, pulling at the Velcro on her vest. As soon as she stood, the attention of the guys around the table turned towards her, but it was the scratch of the Velcro that pulled the attention of Sam away from the window. Without a word, Jules laid her vest on the floor, removed her gray SRU overshirt, and the gun holster around her leg, piling them neatly on the floor. She walked slowly to the water cooler and took down two large glasses, filling each with cold filtered water. Jules took another deep breath, exhaled and turned to face the table, unhurriedly looking each man in the eyes , finally resting her gaze on Sam Braddock's dark blue ones. Her heart ached at the pain she saw there.

Her eyes never left his as she walked towards the table, leaning across placing the tall cool water in front of his place, a gesture, an invitation to sit and join the group. Jules sat unhurriedly in her chair, her eyes remaining on Sam's, watching him follow her lead, sitting directly in front of her, watching her, breathing with her, the tension leaving him.

Parker watched the exchange and smiled slightly. Jules had learned a lot over the last few years. She had just managed to step up and do what he had been unable to, reduce the tension, use her connection with Sam to help him, use her own skill and connections with the group to help them fight their own adrenaline.

"We need to talk about what happened today," Greg began.

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><p>Half and hour later, the briefing had turned to the final few minutes of the incident. The tension was growing again. Sam was standing, pacing, blaming himself.<p>

"Of all the times, of all the people I should have been able to connect with, this time…" his voice drifted away, he stared out the window, starting to close himself off again.

Sarge's voice softened, knowing Sam was pulling away from him, "Sam, sometimes, even with a connection, it doesn't always work out the way we hope. It just doesn't."

Sarge looked over at Jules and caught her eye. She hadn't spoken much during the debrief, unless asked a question, and had mostly just watched Sam, watched as his tension level increased as the team approached the final moments of the horrible day.

Jules took a sip of water, a deep breath and felt her body relax.

"Sam," her voice was barely above a whisper, but that was all it took. Sam slowly turned from the darkened window to face her, his eyes locked to hers.

"Do you remember what the last thing Darren said to you was?" Her voice was still soft, but it held a sense of purpose, of strength.

The rest of the room just melted away. It was just the two of them, connected at a level that went deeper than what anyone else in the room suspected, but could feel just the same.

Not breaking eye contact, Sam said, "Something like 'I'm a good soldier.'"

"Sarge?"

"Spike, can we see the replay?" Spike replayed the last few seconds, trying to bring the volume up.

Jules whispers, "He says, 'See you on the other side.'"

Wordy says, "It's a battle cry."

"Not this time," Sarge says softly, "this time, he's saying good bye."

"Sam, look at the transcript, where you're telling each other your stories. What does he tell you?" Jules asks him another question.

For the first time since she had engaged him, he broke eye contact to flip through the transcript to the pages Jules was referring. "He says he's tired. He wants me to meet him on the ice. He says it has to be me." Realization started to dawn on Sam's face.

"That's when he knew it was over," Jules said, tears were beginning to fall down her cheeks.

"He wanted to die," Sam whispered, "he wanted me to kill him." Sam sat down hard on the chair, pain etched across his face.

Jules spoke again, their eyes holding, "Sam, you had the connection. That connection you had was palpable. Everyone in this room felt it through the coms, in the building, we can read it in the transcript. It was real. Maybe it didn't turn out like you thought it would…hey, like we all thought it would, but none of us would deny it."

Sam spoke to the whole room, but really only spoke to Jules, his eyes never leaving hers. "You know, when I joined the SRU, I wanted to be more than a point and shoot guy. I wanted to help people, to save people." He pushed away from the table, "instead, I've endangered my team, lost objectivity, and got someone killed. I don't belong here." He started to stalk out of the room.

Jules' voice was stern. "Stop right there, Sam Braddock. Do you really think you are so special that you don't get to mess up? We have ALL done exactly what you did today. You have seen us do it… Ed, Spike, Sarge…everyone. We fall down and we get right back up. We watch each other's backs. We pull each other back from the edge." Jules rose from her chair and stood directly in front on him, blocking his path to the door. She looked so tiny in front of him, but she might as well have been a concrete wall. He wouldn't be going around her. "Today, Boss tried twice to pull you back and you kept moving forward. Next time, listen! It's hard in the moment. Learn and move on. We are a team. You are a part of it, like it or not. You do not just get to walk away."

Slowly the other team members stood and surrounded Sam, forming a circle around Jules and Sam. Sam finally looked away from Jules long enough to look at the rest of the team, seeing the emotion in their eyes, the absolute resolution in their faces. It wasn't going to be easy, but he knew he belonged here, with them, with her.

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><p>Next up: Jules apartment.<p>

A/N: It's been about 10 months since I wrote anything, and that was in the True Blood genre. Be kind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Connections**

A/N: No Spoilers. Don't Own. Jules is the heart of the team, and my characterization of her here defines that. Unapologetically JAM.

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><p><em>There will never be a kiss like your kiss. ~Lucinda Williams<em>

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><p>Jules walked out of her dressing room and heard the guys trying to talk Sam into some beers after what had been a very long day. From the sound of things, Sam was not in the mood and she could sense his reluctance all the way from the hall.<p>

She slowly turned the corner and leaned against the doorway. "Hey. What's up?"

Sam's eyes met hers, practically begging her to save him. She smiled sympathetically.

"We're just trying to get Sam to come get a drink with us," Spike said. That was the usual MO after a long tough day such as this one. But tonight, drinks were probably not the best idea in the playbook.

"Yeah, that sounds great," she paused. "But you know? It's been a long day. Maybe we should all call it a night and do the drinks another night. Sam can buy." She turned to Spike and gave him her most encouraging smile. The wind quickly went out of the sails on the plan to go get drinks, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

Soon the group dispersed and walked towards the darkened parking lot, taking off in their respective cars. Jules stood before the open door of Sam's car in silence, just being there, waiting for him. His arms rested on his knees, she watched as his head dropped to his chest and his shoulders started to shake, just slightly.

Jules reached out the inches to his shoulders and brought him to her, holding him gently against her. She stroked the soft short hair at the base of his neck, and softly hummed a melody, something she remembered from her childhood, something she remembered that always soothed her nightmares.

When she felt Sam still under her, she whispered into the cool night air, "How 'bout we go home now?"

Sam move back from her, awkwardly disentangling himself from her, wiping his face off, pushing his hair back. "Um… yeah, sure. It's been a long day. You….we…" breaking eye contact with her, turning his body away and repositioning himself in the car seat, getting ready to drive away.

Jules reached out and touched his arm, feeling him jump. "I was talking about _us_ going to _my_ home," and she saw his eyes light up as she clarified. "I'm starving and I seem to remember a certain special ops guy telling me that his favorite comfort food was spaghetti and meat sauce." Sam's head ducked down again and then lifted it up. "Unless you aren't hungry?"

Sam laughed. "I could definitely eat, especially if you're cooking."

Jules grinned and handed him a key. "Here. Go home…my home, just to be clear, Sam-I-Am." He loved that nickname she had given him shortly after he'd joined the team.

"Where you goin'?" he asked as he started the jeep.

"To get our MRE's soldier," she said in a false deep voice one might hear from a Sgt. giving an order… "I'll be there in about 45 minutes. Make yourself at home while I'm gone."

Sam looked down at the dried dark brown blood under his nails and embedded in his cuticles. It hadn't come off in the shower earlier. "Do you have something that will take off the blood from my hands?" Sam asked as he stared at his hands, his mind on the red blood against the white floor of the Coliseum.

Jules sighed. "Hydrogen Peroxide. Under the sink in my bathroom. And if you need to, take another shower. Sometimes, it seems like it will never come off doesn't it?"

Sam's jeep roared to life. She barely heard the sad 'copy that' under the noise of the engine. He waited at the gate until she safely caught up with him and they split up, to meet up soon at her house.

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><p>Sam entered the backdoor of Jules' house and flipped on the hallway lights. He'd been in her house briefly before but still felt odd having been given a sort of carte blanche while she wasn't here. He was pretty sure no one else from the team had ever been inside the house before, and he found he didn't mind that a bit.<p>

Her house was cozy, filled with an assortment of odds and ends that had caught her fancy over the years. There were pictures of the team, of what must be her family, and photographs of places she had been. Her guitar stood in the corner. She wasn't messy by any stretch but she wasn't a neat freak either. Sam laughed as he found her robe tossed carelessly over a chair by the TV, some lotions on the end table, remotes scattered around, and an assortment of books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table. One of the books was _Paradise Lost_. He could only guessed she was reading it after she'd met Penny, trying to understand more about what Penny was talking about when she talked about choices.

He continued down the hallway and as soon as he entered her bedroom he could smell her scent. She smelled like a forest angel might smell… or maybe that would be a forest fairy… he figured she wasn't much of an angel… maybe a forest imp would be more appropriate. She had a queen sized bed with a dark blue comforter and pillows… lots of pillows. Sam felt a not terribly surprising pang of jealousy directed at who might have last shared her bed.

Shaking his head at the thought, he wandered into her bathroom, taking in the entire usual girl miscellany that covered Jules' bathroom, just like it had his sisters' when he lived at home. What was it that made girls require so much _stuff_? Of course, once he'd asked one of his sisters that question and he woke up the next morning with his hair dyed and his nails painted. It wasn't pretty. He would never, ever ask Jules. She'd probably hog tie him and drop him down an air shaft.

He hunted around and found the peroxide and some cotton balls, and cleaned off the blood. The stuff bubbled like crazy, but as he wiped it off, the blood came with it. How had he made it this far, with so much blood on his hands, and not known this little trick? If only there was something to wash away the invisible wounds, and the psychic blood that remains.

Sam started the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go. He stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pummel his hard, exhausted body. His skin stung as the water burned. He wanted it to just boil away the blood, the disappointment, the nightmares. He took her scrubbing puff, he couldn't find anything more abrasive, poured soap on it, and tore against his skin, trying to rip, to hurt. Of course, it couldn't do any damage, not like he wanted it to. The blood he saw on his body wasn't real, it was imagined, it was what he saw in his nightmares, in his dreams, on the floor of the ice rink today, on his friend's body in that desert hellhole.

He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. His skin felt like tiny bee stings as he dried himself with the towel. He carefully pulled on his boxer briefs, drawing a sharp breath as he felt the burn of his skin against the cotton. Fortunately, his jeans were well worn and soft so they went on easier.

When he left the bath, Jules still wasn't home and after the hot shower he was so tired. He went to her bed, carefully pulling back the dark blue comforter and crisp fresh white sheets. Her bed looked inviting. He'd just lie down for just minute, she'd be home soon. He put his head down and pulled the other pillow to him, smelling her forest scent all over the pillow. He smiled into the pillow, nuzzling deeper, and promptly fell asleep.

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><p>Jules carried the groceries inside and dropped them on the counter. The house was quiet, but she knew Sam was still here. His car was in the driveway. She walked towards the bedroom where a low light was on. Sam was curled up in bed with her pillow crushed against his face, sleeping like a baby. Jules smiled and walked towards him, covered his bare shoulder with the blanket and turned off the light. She pulled the door almost closed behind her and left him sleeping soundly.<p>

An hour and a half later, Sam walked through the hallway, tugging his t-shirt down and trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He yawned a greeting at Jules and looked around the room. It was lit almost entirely with candles and very low wattage lamps, which were reserved for the kitchen, probably so she could see what she was doing. There was music playing he didn't recognize, slow and bluesy and perfect for the mood. The living room and kitchen were one big room and both were filled with the smells of cooking food. He guessed the sauce was simmering, maybe had been for some time.

Jules looked up from where she was chopping salad vegetables, looked him up and down with a smirk, "Hey sleepyhead. How'd you sleep?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, still trying to clear the sleep from his head, "No nightmares, so good I guess. How long…?"

"I don't know. You were out when I got home, so maybe an hour, hour and a half. You needed it." She smiled at him and then returned to chopping vegetables.

"Jules, wow. Sorry. I hadn't meant to…"

"Stop, Sam. No apologies. It's all good. You want some wine or beer?" she asked as she put a plate of antipasti in front of him.

"Yeah, wine's good. What's this?" He asked as he took the glass of chianti she handed him.

She walked over to where he'd taken a seat at the bar across from where she was cooking. "These are cheeses," she pointed, "some salamis, olives, some marinated mushrooms. Just a little something while I cook up the spaghetti. Everything else is ready."

But Sam wasn't watching the appetizer plate anymore. His entire attention was now diverted to what Jules was wearing… a very oversized, well-worn and well-loved hockey jersey. It hung down to her knees and the arms down past her elbows.

Her eyebrows knitted together, "What?"

"I didn't know you liked hockey." Sam's voice broke in the middle of speaking as he swallowed hard.

She looked down at what she was wearing. She always came home and put on one of these jerseys. Tonight had been no different and she hadn't really thought much about it, which might have been a foolish thing in hindsight.

"We live in Canada. Of course I like hockey. Tell you what Sam, I'll just go change. Keep an eye on the spaghetti. Don't let it boil over, ok?"

Sam grabbed at her arm and pulled her back. "Don't change because of me. I was just surprised. It's ok, really."

"I didn't think. I pretty much automatically change into them when I get home. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I like seeing you in a hockey jersey. Of course, I wish it was _my_ hockey jersey…" Sam grinned.

Jules shook her head and walked back to the spaghetti to stir it. "What is it with guys and wanting to see girls in _their_ clothes? And never wanting them to wear some other guys' leftover clothes? It's crazy, some sort of primal thing left over from caveman days."

"It is. It is all about marking territory, Jules. I like seeing you in that jersey, a lot. That it's not mine, well, I'm trying to ignore that part."

"Marking territory like a dog… sounds like your peeing on me," Sam laughed out loud at her indignant tone.

"Yeah, like you'd ever let that happen. You'd hurt me for sure."

"Damn straight. Don't forget it, Sam I Am."

Jules handed Sam a plate of spaghetti and meat sauce that made his mouth water. "You know, back in the cave man days, they just hauled their women off by their hair to their caves. Probably peed on them too, making sure everyone knew they were theirs."

"Sam!"

"Just saying."

Jules threw a piece of garlic bread at him, which he caught quickly before it hit him. "Why thank you, Jules. I love garlic bread."

She smirked at him, glad to see his usual good mood had returned in spades and they were able to pick up their usual banter.

Dinner was over and they both were feeling relaxed, even serene with the soft piano playing in the background and the candles burning low. The carbs and wine had helped wear away whatever edge of adrenaline that might still have existed. Jules rose reluctantly from the table and started to clear the dishes, Sam following her lead in silence. Sam started to wash, and she stopped him and nodded her head.

"Let's just rinse and leave them in the sink. I'll deal with them tomorrow."

"It's not that much Jules. I'll wash them and we can just air dry them. Just clear the table and I'll take care of the rest. Otherwise, we just have to do it all tomorrow."

She smiled at his unintentional use of 'we' having to do it all tomorrow, but she did appreciate the thought. He was efficient about cleaning up, probably learned from the military and they were done in no time.

"It's nice outside. Do you feel like sitting outside for a bit? Or do you want to go home?" Jules offered.

There was no way Sam wanted to go home. Not to his sterile, modern apartment, alone and cold. He knew he wouldn't sleep. No matter how tired he was. He wanted to stay here forever. He knew it wasn't possible, but if she was offering a few more minutes with her, he'd take it.

"Sure, outside is good."

She nodded and got a couple of glasses from the bar and took two bottles down. "Would you like to join me? Balvenie? Maker's Mark?"

"Hard liquor, Jules?" Sam asked, surprised. He'd never seen her drink anything more than an occasional beer, or tonight a couple glasses of wine.

"Very occasionally. Watered down with ice. Only one."

"I guess I'll have whatever you're having," Sam shrugged.

She poured the two of them something less than two fingers and dropped several cubes of ice over it, handed him his glass and grabbed a blue snuggie off the couch, turning towards him when she heard his snicker.

"What?"

"Never saw you as a snuggie kind of girl Jules."

"Hey, I said it was nice out, not necessarily warm. You'll need a coat or a blanket too. There're blankets in the closet by the door. Or, you can be cold."

"That snuggie looks big enough for both of us…" Sam teased her with a suggestive leer.

She wrapped the snuggie tighter around her body. "I think it just got smaller since you made fun of it. Get a blanket, Sam I Am."

He rolled his head back. "Jules…"

"Come on, soldier…"

By the time he had dug around and found a blanket he thought would be warm enough, she had darkened the back porch except for a candle set at the edge of the railing at the end of the porch. It cast just enough light so he didn't trip over any of the plants she had out there. Jules was already curled up in an Adirondack chair, looking like an angel, her hair fanned around her, her eyes dark and watching him as he took his seat in the second chair beside her.

He reached his hand out tentatively towards her and was relieved when she took it. He looked down at their interlocked fingers. "Thanks for today, Jules. For tonight. I've never had anyone do anything like this for me…" his voice drifted off.

She squeezed his hand in answer. "You are a good man Sam Braddock."

He lifted his eyes to hers as he slowly brought her hand to his lips. "You make me want to be, Julianna Callaghan."

Jules smiled at him and closed her eyes, holding his hand, letting herself drift to sleep for the first time in almost twenty hours.

Sam waited until she was fast asleep and silently stood and picked up her tiny sleeping body. She stirred and turned her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck but still she didn't wake. It was as if they had done this a hundred times, instead of this once. He made his way through the darkened house to her bedroom where a small light was on in the bathroom, casting a golden glow on the bed. He laid her on the bed, wondering if she would want to sleep in the snuggie or not, and deciding that he wouldn't try to get her out of it. The idea of undressing her while she slept was too disconcerting, taking too much for granted. Instead, he pulled the comforter and sheet up, leaning over to kiss her cool forehead.

"Good night, Jules. Thank you for everything," he whispered against her hair.

He felt her hand reach out from under the covers and touch his arm. "You're leaving?" Her voice was groggy with sleep.

"Baby, it's late, really late," he knelt beside her.

"Stay. Sleep. You know you gotta sleep. It's just sleep, Sam I Am…" she patted the covers on the other side of the bed, inviting him in.

"Just like it's just a burrito and a beer?" He smiled as he reminded her of his first invitation to dinner, back when he didn't realize just how complicated things could get between the two of them.

"Yeah, well. That night, it _was_ just burritos and beer. Tonight, just sleep. I'm too tired for anything else. Promise. Besides, I'm too tired to argue. Come, go… your choice. I'm getting out of this snuggie and going to sleep."

She crawled out of bed and started to pull the snuggie off, leaving it in her wake as she closed the bathroom door quietly behind her. When she came out, Sam wasn't there and she wondered if he had left when he walked back in with the 'go' bag they all kept in their cars just in case.

"I locked the doors," he said as he tried to look anywhere at Jules and her tousled hair and sleepy eyes in that damn jersey. He was definitely leaving one of his behind sometime and hoped she'd wear it. He shook his head internally…_talk about primal_.

Jules smiled tiredly and walked towards him standing at the end of the bed. "Thanks for thinking of that. I'd have forgotten completely. The bathroom's all yours."

Jules stopped in front of him, her hands brushing along his square shoulders and continued up until they closed behind his neck. Her eyes locked on his as she slowly pulled his face towards hers, their breath mingling together…his, the woodsy smell of whiskey, hers the fresh cool mint of toothpaste…. His tongue instinctively licked his lips and he swallowed as he lowered his mouth to hers.

They teased each other slowly, neither quite willing to close those last few millimeters that would join their lips together, sealing their first kiss, finally uniting them as a couple. Where Sam's arms had been passively holding Jules, his grip turned firm, drawing her against his body, pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss could easily have been hard, he was holding her tightly, he was aroused, had been waiting for this for months, but instead it was gentle…almost like a butterflies wings brushing against her lips. He felt the velvet smoothness of her mouth, the hard muscles of her body under the softer curves of her body pressed against him.

Jules relished the feel of Sam holding her. It had been a very long time since she'd found a guy she wanted to hold her, that she wanted to even share any time with at all. She couldn't remember the last time a guy had crossed the threshold of her bedroom. And yet here stood Sam, her teammate, her friend, holding her like he might die without her, but kissing her like she might break if he touched her.

Jules tentatively stroked her tongue across his lips, sucking on his lower lip begging entrance, wanting to taste so much more. Sam opened to her, tongues caressing each other, mapping the feel and texture of the other. Their mouths were hot, their bodies on fire. Sam groaned as he pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss, pulling her head to his chest, breathing hard into her hair, showering the crown of her head with kisses.

"If I'm staying, we need to stop Jules," Sam's whispered hoarsely.

Jules' arms hugged him tight and then let go as she stepped back from him, her eyes shimmered in the barely lit room. "Yeah. Just burritos and beer tonight, right?" She smiled sadly at him as she turned away and slid under the covers and looked at Sam, still standing at the end of the bed.

"Do you want me to go, Jules?" Sam wondered, afraid of her answer but knowing he needed to ask.

"Hurry up and come to bed Sam. We really gotta get some sleep."

As he walked quickly towards the bathroom, she heard him say "Copy that."

Within minutes Sam was back in bed with Jules curled beside him, her head on his chest already drifting to sleep. He heard her muffled voice ask him something and he bent his head to hear better.

"What Jules?" he whispered.

"Did you notice the color of the comforter and pillows?"

She felt Sam tense under her and smiled into his warm chest, thinking he probably thought this was a trick question.

"It's the color of your eyes, Sam I Am."

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><p>AN: Thanks to those of you who have left reviews! Reviews feed the muse and definitely support the author. I read every one and try to respond. I know lots of people are reading. Please leave a review! If you are an author yourself, it's a form of "pay it forward!"


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